Life after loss: redefining daily routines without them

The loss of a beloved pet doesn’t just leave a hole in our hearts, it leaves a gap in our daily lives. Our furry friends often shape the rhythm of our routines, offering structure, purpose, and comfort. When they’re gone, that structure quietly collapses, and with it, our sense of motivation and meaning can feel shaken.

It reminds me of the Netflix series After Life, where the main character, Tony, forms a deep bond with his dog, Brandy, after losing his wife. In the midst of his grief, Brandy becomes his anchor, a reason to get out of bed, to go outside, to keep going.

In my own life, my new furry companion, a little cat named Purri, gives me a reason to put the phone down and be present. Every night, when I reach for my phone in bed, she climbs onto my chest and demands my full attention. Her love invites me to just be with her. It’s become our special moment, instead of doom-scrolling Pinterest.

So when we lose that presence, the one who gave us a reason to wake up, to go for walks, to pause, what do we do with all the time, space, and silence that’s left behind?

My honest answer is: channel the love.

The love you feel for your furry baby doesn’t disappear. What disappears is the routine. And so, part of healing is gently transforming that love and care into something new, something meaningful to you.

When Lara passed, I started drawing. At first, I painted memories of her, moments we shared, the shape of our life together. I also painted the pain. It was incredibly therapeutic. Over time, the brush led me to other subjects, but it all started with her.

I know that when some people lose their companion, they start avoiding the places they used to go together because it’s just too painful. And I get it. But avoiding those places can actually prolong the pain and interfere with your life in a significant way. It also sends the wrong message to your brain: “You can’t handle this. It’s too painful.” While avoidance may provide short-term relief, it often makes healing harder in the long run.

That’s why I gently suggest revisiting the places you used to go together and creating new memories. You can’t heal what you don’t allow yourself to feel. Avoiding the pain doesn’t erase it,  it only suspends and maintains it.

For example, I continued walking at the same time I used to walk Lara. This may sound strange, but I even paused where she used to stop and sniff, and I would just… notice. The trees. The light. The way the breeze felt. Those little pauses became deeply mindful moments. They helped me reconnect with my neighborhood in a quieter, more intentional way, which eventually led me to discover a small organic market I now love visiting. Grief took me somewhere new, both literally and symbolically.

Another gentle step you might consider is donating your pet’s things to a local rescue center. Sometimes, even volunteering. Giving back can be a powerful way to honor the bond you shared.

The most important thing isn’t to simply fill the time. It’s to honor it, to feel what arises without judgment, and to channel it in a way that feels healing, creative, and meaningful to you.

Let love guide your next steps, not to replace what was lost, but to carry it forward in a new form.

This is Purri making me put the phone down to give her cuddles ❤️
July 2025